


of drunken mistakes and really nice aftershave

by elithewho



Category: Lizzie Bennet Diaries
Genre: Drunkenness, F/M, Hand Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-06
Updated: 2013-02-05
Packaged: 2017-11-28 09:37:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/672946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elithewho/pseuds/elithewho
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lizzie is drunk and Darcy smells amazing and she doesn't like him, not at all, not one tiny bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place at some indeterminate time when Lizzie is still at Pemberley and the news about Lydia has not been revealed. I think we all need a little relief from the angst.

Lizzie Bennet was officially drunk. She could tell because she couldn’t walk down the hallway without holding the wall for support. And it’s always bad news when standing up and lying down feel equally terrible.

Either way, Lizzie couldn’t remember which room was supposed to be hers. Darcy and Gigi had kindly offered her a room to sleep in for the night, but Lizzie could not remember for the life of her which one it was. It didn’t help that all the doors looked exactly the same.

She just wanted to go to sleep and not think about a certain person whose name began with D and ended with Y and was most assuredly of the male gender. Her feelings in regard to Darcy were massively confusing even when she was perfectly sober. 

It didn’t help that he had been flirting with her all night. At first, in that awkward, mannered way that emerged when he felt uncomfortable. But as the wine kept flowing, he got, well, somehow _more_ Darcy-like and _less_ Darcy-like at the same time.

He kept saying things like, “I hope you enjoyed the organic pasta” and “I purchased this wine the last time I was in Paris” which was all, 100% Darcy-bot in the way she had once reviled. But as the night wore on he began slurring his words even _smiling,_ which unnerved her. It was also the way he smiled, directly at her, his eyes pouring into her, brimming with desire and how that definitely, 100% did not make her tingle all the way down to her toes.

Not to mention how Lizzie absolutely did not enjoy the way he would sort of lean over her from time to time and fill her nostrils with his aftershave. Which she hated. And did not make her lightheaded and dizzy and even hungry in a way she couldn’t entirely explain.

Meanwhile, in the hallway, Lizzie was about 60% sure she had found her room. Maybe 45%. She eased the door open and slipped in. In hindsight, it would have been wise to make sure it actually was her room and not one that was already occupied. Especially one already occupied by 6 plus feet of William Darcy.

Lizzie made an involuntary squeaking sound in her throat and went to exit the room post haste, albeit a bit unsteadily. Unfortunately, it was that exact moment that she heard footsteps and giggling in the hall. It was Fitz and Gigi, she was sure, and she cringed at the thought of them seeing her exit Darcy’s room.

She stopped to evaluate the situation. Darcy was clearly asleep. He hadn’t even stirred when she opened the door or squeaked in alarm. He was possibly dead. No, she could see his chest rise and fall. He was lying on top of his covers, still dressed, except for a single shoe that he had managed to remove. He had also pulled his suspenders off his shoulders and unbuttoned his dress pants. Lizzie felt herself blush, the sort of all consuming, red to the roots of her hair flush that made her insides curl. But she still wasn’t exiting the room.

Lizzie was intrigued now, and still entirely drunk. She slipped out of her shoes, narrowly avoiding toppling over on her face in the process, and crept closer. Darcy looked so… nice in his sleep. He looked gentle and relaxed, totally without his awkward façade. Lizzie edged toward the bed, feeling like a creep. Her rational brain was screaming at her to vacate the room immediately, but her drunk, horny brain disagreed.

Yes, horny. Sober Lizzie would deny it till the ends of the earth, but drunk Lizzie could not stop thinking about Darcy and his aftershave and his forearms and his blue eyes staring at her like she was the best thing he’d ever seen.

Lizzie absorbed the silence. She could only hear Darcy’s steady breathing and her own heartbeat, pounding away. Practically holding her breath, Lizzie found herself at the foot of the bed carefully removing Darcy’s other shoe. Lizzie didn’t want to wake him, but it would be so uncomfortable to sleep with it on. It was shiny and black, but he had scuffed the toe. Somehow she found that endearing. As she slid it over his heel, he made a sort of snuffling sound. Lizzie froze, but he merely sighed and continued sleeping.

Her heart beating powerfully, Lizzie set the shoe on the floor. Then, because she was completely insane apparently, she slid onto the bed beside him. Her head was still spinning and she really needed to be lying down. And there was the bed, looking soft and comfortable and full of a delicious smelling Darcy. 

Lizzie laid her aching head on her arm and curled up her legs, placing her body as close to Darcy as she could manage without actually touching him. He wore a crisp black shirt with the sleeves rolled up and Lizzie had been admiring his forearms all night while simultaneously convincing herself that she didn’t notice them at all. Darcy slept with his hands splayed on his torso and chest and she couldn’t help noting the width of each hand and how his knuckles curled, the bones in his wrists. Lizzie leaned in close to his shoulder and inhaled his scent. 

The creepiness of smelling people in their sleep notwithstanding, he smelled really, really good. Desire curled low in her belly and Lizzie felt her eyes drift closed. It felt bizarrely nice to lie next to him and Lizzie was far too intoxicated to stay awake. Her last thoughts were of how falling asleep next to Darcy was a terrible idea, sure to have disastrous consequences, but he just smelled so nice…


	2. Chapter 2

Darcy had been dreaming about red hair and deep blue eyes when his consciousness was returned cruelly to the waking world. All he was initially aware of was his terribly dry throat, his pounding head and how every limb ached with stiffness. He was never drinking again, never ever again…

When he peeled open his eyes to the harsh glare of the light above him, he became suddenly aware of another person in his bed. How drunk did he actually get? But no, he had a distinct memory of falling on top of the covers, finding the task of removing both shoes to be impossibly difficult, and he had certainly been alone. 

Tilting his head to the side, Darcy examined his surprise bed guest. His heart nearly stopped when he saw it was Lizzie. Lizzie Bennet lying beside him, in his bed, looking so beautiful and perfect that it was painful to see. Or maybe it was stiffness in his neck.

Darcy shifted, trying to stretch out his joints that ached with every moment. No, he was fairly certain that the pain blooming in his chest was entirely because of Lizzie and it was a pain that was equal parts pleasure.

She was fast asleep, one arm supporting her head and the other hand curled next to her face. She looked angelic, transcendent, too beautiful for words. He couldn’t even imagine why she was here, but he couldn’t seem to care. He had gotten so drunk earlier, far more drunk that he would usually allow himself to get, but his nerves and the atmosphere of the small get together had gotten to him. He wanted so badly to talk to Lizzie like a normal person and not feel so horribly, painfully awkward. He wasn’t sure he had avoided that so much as intensified it, but if he hadn’t been hallucinating, he was sure that Lizzie had responded favorably to his flirting attempts, maybe she even flirted back. It was a prospect too glorious to hope for, so he had retired rather than risk making himself even more of a fool in her eyes.

His chest tightening, Darcy examined the curve of her face, the sensual pink of her mouth, the strands of red hair clinging to her lips in way he found profoundly erotic. In climbing on the bed, Lizzie’s party dress had ridden up her thighs. In fact, her hem was in danger of becoming indecent and Darcy tore his eyes away, a hot rush of arousal causing pinpricks of sweat to sting on his face. She had a dark brown freckle on her thigh. 

Darcy’s head was buzzing. He really needed to get off the bed and go… anywhere else. Maybe a cold shower. As he began his slow, careful shifting to remove himself from the bed without waking Lizzie, the worst possible thing in the world happened. Lizzie gasped, a sharp intake of breath and her arms flailed out at him. For a split second, Darcy thought she was attacking him, but then her arm wrapped itself around his chest as she nudged her body close to his. Darcy stiffened instantly, his heart beating a painful rhythm in his ears.

“Wait,” he was certain he heard her mumble. “Don’t move.” 

She hadn’t even opened her eyes. Darcy was trying very hard to control his breathing. He was painfully aware of her body pressed against him, the curve of her breasts and the warmth of her thighs.

“Lizzie,” he began gently, his aching throat protesting speech. “You should be in your own bed.”

“No,” was all she said, her face pressed into his shoulder.

“Lizzie,” he tried again, but then she threw her leg over his body. 

Darcy had to suppress an inarticulate moan. The delicious warmth and softness of her bare leg lay precariously close to his crotch and he didn’t even want to risk noting what this movement did to her skirt. He felt her hand caress his chest where it lay and she sighed in apparent contentment.

“Lizzie,” he managed, unable to keep the whine of arousal from his voice. “Do you know where you are…”

Lizzie had been resting her head on his shoulder but now she was pressing her face into the collar of his shirt, inhaling deeply.

“You smell really fucking good,” she said.

Darcy actually did groan. Her hair was in his face and she smelled really fucking good herself. Like lavender and vanilla and everything delicious. Before he even knew what was happening, Lizzie was straddling him. With her legs on either side of his hips and her face still pressed into his chest, Darcy was firmly in contact with so many wonderful parts of her body that didn’t know what to do with himself. Her crotch was pressed against his and he was fully, embarrassingly hard, overwhelmed by how warm she was there, like a blazing furnace. She was tugging at his collar and bowtie and Darcy could not stop his own hands from finding her thighs and exploring her amazing skin. She made a sound against his neck, a sound like she liked this, and Darcy thought his chest might burst from arousal and longing.

She lifted her head and finally looked at him. She didn’t look confused or too drunk to function and her eyes bore into him like the firm press of fingers against skin. Darcy was momentarily struck dumb. Her fingers brushed the hollow his throat as she plucked at his buttons and Darcy regained his faculties of speech.

“Let’s not do something we regret,” he said in a low strained voice, wanting very much not to say it and to do everything that they both would regret.

Lizzie bit her lip, apparently in thought. Darcy had to look away, feeling his cock respond to this image without his permission. Then she leaned down and kissed him, her hair falling over his face, her body shifting over his erection in a very enticing fashion. Her mouth, though tasting of sleep and long ago wine, felt better than anything. He felt the kiss everywhere, in his chest, in every limb, in his cock, all the way to the tips of his toes. The kiss heated up, their mouths sliding wetly, teeth teasing his lips. She pulled away, leaving him gasping. His hands had unconsciously gripped her thighs, pulling her closer, desperate for friction.

“Yes,” she whispered against his lips, a feather’s kiss. “Let’s not.”

For two people who had agreed not do something they both would regret, they were still touching each other quite a lot. And kissing. And grinding. It had become a full on dry humping session and Darcy felt like he was about fifteen and fooling around with a girl for the very first time. This was _Lizzie,_ after all, and the first anything with her was more special than anything else. 

Darcy wanted this to be good for her, not some frustrating tumble with a fumbling boy. He found that her skirt had bunched up around her waist during their tussling and his fingers brushed over her panties. He felt the lace design and how she gasped in pleasure, a puff of warm air against his neck. Even as his fingers found her wet and slick, her own hand was sliding down his stomach to the waistband of his pants. He had managed to unbutton them before falling on the bed in an unsuccessful bid to remove his pants, so she had no trouble at all sliding her hand in his boxers to cup his straining cock.

Her hand, like naked flame against raw flesh, made him groan, desperate and deep in his throat. Darcy swept his thumb against her clit, determined to extract the same response from her. Lizzie moaned and gasped, something like a word escaping her lips. He circled the spot, curling his fingers to slip inside her. 

It wasn’t the ideal angle, he was too tall and they lay side by side, maneuvering to reach each other, but her hand around her cock was all he really needed. She pumped her hand, rough without any lubrication, but her thumb brushed the tip and he watched her tongue touch the corner of her mouth so briefly and she looked right into his eyes.

She was so wet, so tight, her moans rising in her throat, her hand moving over his cock erratically. He wanted to look at her forever, her face flush, her mouth opening and closing as she moaned and bucked against him, her eyes bright and locked on his. Then her eyelids fluttered closed and she twisted beneath him, tightening around his fingers, her own hand squeezing in cock in time with her orgasm.

Then she breathed one word, strangled by her moans, _”Will."_ His name on her lips sent him over the edge and he saw spots, his toes curled, his face contorted, every nerve in his body burst into flames.

As they lay there, breathing deeply in unison, Darcy wrapped his arm around her shoulder, drawing her close. He did not want to think about what would happen next. Lizzie curled around his body, tucking her head into his neck.

He was sure that when they woke the next morning, hungover and sticky with evidence of their shenanigans, it would be an exceedingly awkward conversation indeed. But for now, he pushed those thoughts away. He just wanted to lay there and feel her heart beat against his, her breathing settle into the gentle rhythm of sleep and fall asleep with Lizzie Bennet in his arms.


End file.
